


Is This What You Wanted

by teennplantt



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, ghost au, literally the plot of ghost the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8698783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teennplantt/pseuds/teennplantt
Summary: Alex and Matt move into an apartment in New York City, where Matt works as a successful banker. He has a perfect life until it's taken from him, and he has to do whatever it takes to get revenge on those who wronged him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally the exact plot of Ghost the movie, like the original one made in 1990. Matt is Sam, Alex is Molly, Miles is Carl, Nick is Oda Mae, and Jamie is the the subway ghost. I think this is a decent interpretation of the movie, and I honestly don't know what possessed me to write this.

Matt brought up the last box from the moving truck and tossed it on the floor. 

"Careful, that's my art supplies!" Alex hurried towards the box, grabbing it off the floor. He gently laid the box next to his canvas, and Matt smiled fondly. 

"So, you like our new apartment?" Matt questioned, patting the couch next to him in an invitation for Alex to sit down. Alex took the invitation readily, as he was just as exhausted as Matt appeared to be. 

"I still can't believe you two picked this place over an apartment in Brooklyn," Miles remarked, heaving another box through the open door. 

"Brooklyn? Are you still on that?" Matt rolled his eyes as he stood from the couch. Miles set down the box in his hands before taking a few steps towards Matt. 

"Those apartments are guaranteed to increase in value," Miles pressed.

"Mi, I'm too tired for this today," Matt sighed. "Excuse me for not wantin’ to get mugged every time I leave my apartment.” 

"You'll be sorry you didn't invest in an apartment in Brooklyn Heights when you had the chance." Miles shook his head. "I gotta get going." 

"Thanks for all your help, Mi, drop by anytime, okay?" Matt grinned. He and Alex walked Miles to the door and swung it shut behind him. "I thought he'd never leave." Matt turned to Alex, beaming. He grabbed Alex and pushed him against the wall before connecting their lips. Matt pushed Alex further up the wall, and Alex wrapped his legs around Matt's waist. Alex grabbed Matt's shoulders, and Matt pushed his hips against Alex's, building the friction between them. Matt left trailing, open-mouthed kisses down Alex's jaw, and Alex gasped breathily. 

"I love you, Matt," Alex groaned as Matt continued the slow torture of grinding and kissing. 

"Ditto," Matt whispered, his voice thick with lust. Alex huffed, suddenly pushing Matt away from him. "What's wrong, baby?" Matt's eyes widened in concern. 

"Nothing, I'm just tired." Alex untangled himself from Matt and folded his arms across his chest. "Goodnight, Matt." 

"Are you mad at me?" Matt asked, grabbing Alex's arm pleadingly as he retreated. Alex pulled himself from Matt's grip. 

 

"No, everything's fine." Alex offered Matt a strained smile. He disappeared into their bedroom. Matt followed him, coaxing himself into a restless sleep once he crawled into bed. 

Alex tossed and turned, but he couldn't get to sleep. Frustration and exhaustion plagued him, but he couldn't coerce his conscious mind to rest. He looked at the digital clock on the nightstand, barely a foot from Matt’s sleeping head, and groaned. Alex gave up on the notion of rest; he stumbled out of bed and threw on one of Matt's older button-up shirts. Matt awoke to the sounds of Alex's record player, and he knew that Alex must have been working on his pottery. He got out of bed and went into the living room to find Alex sculpting clay on his potter’s wheel. The record player sang a jazzy, upbeat tune. Matt stood at the foot of the stairs, watching Alex work with admiration and reverence. 

 

“I see you,” Alex sing-songed happily. His body moved with the clay beneath his fingertips like an enchanting dance. 

"What're you doing up?" Matt asked. 

"I couldn't sleep," Alex mumbled. Matt went to his side, running firm fingers through his hair. 

"You need to cut your hair again. It's getting kinda long.” Matt kissed the top of Alex's head, a small, feather-light peck. 

"I like it this way." Alex shrugged. 

"I like it any way. I like you." Matt grinned. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of Alex's neck, just below his ear. "Can I help you?" 

"Yeah, of course." Alex tried unsuccessfully to hide the blush crawling up his cheeks. Matt pulled a chair up behind Alex and wrapped his arms around Alex's. Alex bent to get water from his bucket and rubbed it over Matt's dry hands. "You have to get your hands wet." Matt ran his hands up and down the length of Alex's arms, kissing his neck. "I don't think you care very much about my pottery." Alex chuckled. Matt laughed as he accidentally caused Alex's hand to dent the piece of clay in half. 

"Oh, sorry, hope it wasn't a masterpiece," Matt giggled sheepishly. He nuzzled his head into the side of Alex's neck. 

"Well, it's not now." Alex shut off his potter's wheel and turned to face Matt. He cupped the back of Matt's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. The kiss heated as Matt wrapped his hands around Alex's waist and moved the pair away from the living room. He started to unbutton Alex's shirt, pulling it up over his thighs. Alex moaned into Matt's mouth, pressing closer to him. 

"Oh, Matt," Alex breathed as Matt pushed him down on the bed and maneuvered between his legs. He ran his hands over Alex's thighs, moving down to his hips and back up again. Alex squirmed in his grip, and Matt slowly slid Alex's boxers down. 

"Matthew, please. Fuck me." Alex gripped onto Matt's forearms and rocked his hips closer to Matt's groin. Matt pushed Alex's button down up to reveal his toned stomach. 

"Mm, baby." Matt leaned down to kiss over Alex's neck, nipping the skin lightly and stroking over Alex's dick. "You aren't gonna be able to walk for weeks once I'm done with you." 

The following morning Matt awoke early for work, and he was on the subway before Alex was out of bed. He held onto the roof of the train, and Miles stood next to him. 

"You seem beat, Matt," Miles observed. "Long night?" 

"Not really," Matt sighed. He gripped the roof of the subway car tighter as the train clambered to a halt. 

"This is us," Miles announced, shuffling through the hoard of people in order to make it out of the subway car. Matt followed him, keeping an iron grip on his briefcase. 

"What's the matter then, Helders?" Miles questioned as soon as Matt and he emerged from the crowd. They exited the station and started down the street towards their office. 

"Ah, it's nothing." Matt shrugged. He and Miles entered the office building, and their boss greeted them warmly. 

"Mr. Helders, we need you to close the account with Peterson." Matt's tightly wound secretary approached Matt with a clipboard in her hands. She had her hair pulled back in an intricate bun, and a stiffly pressed pantsuit hugged her slim figure. Matt had been working with her for years, so he knew Angie well enough to know that even outside of work, she wasn't very exciting. 

"See ya later, Mi!" Matt called out, waving as he followed Angie into his office. Miles nodded, a small smile plastered across his lips. Miles' cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket to answer the call. 

"Hello," Miles answered. "No, I don't have the money yet...I'm working on it..." Miles paced back and forth, running his fingers through his hair nervously. He dodged out of the way of the people bustling around him. "I will have the money!" Miles watched Matt leave his office, still in tow with Angie, and he smiled broadly. "I'll have it by tonight. I'll call you back." Miles hung up the phone and slipped into Matt's office. He went to Matt's computer, knowing he had to work quickly. He started typing away, listening closely for even the slightest change in the background noise outside of Matt's office.

Alex sat at a nice restaurant, waiting for Matt to arrive after a long day at the office. He ordered another glass of wine, telling the waiter that was forced to return again and again, that Matt would be there shortly. He checked his watch; he was over an hour late. Alex couldn't believe he had dressed up for this, since Matt would probably call him in a few minutes to stand him up. Alex folded his arms across his chest, a fourth glass finished, and he was about to give up on Matt ever showing.

"Sorry I'm late!" Matt yelled across the patio, running to Alex's table. "Don't leave, please." He grabbed Alex and pulled him into a hug; Alex found instant relief in Matt’s embrace. "I'm so sorry. The subway was having maintenance issues." 

"It's okay, Matt, you're here now." Alex smiled, a little forced, but Matt still felt absolved. Alex pressed a chaste kiss to Matt's cheek, and the pair sat down. They ordered drinks and appetizers, and Matt shared stories about his day, how busy his office was getting. 

"I wanna marry you, Matt," Alex blurted out after Matt had finished the world's most boring story about paper clips. Matt could read him the phone book, and Alex would love every minute of it. 

"What?" Matt's eyes shot wide. 

"C'mon, Matt, you heard me," Alex insisted. "I love you so much. I really do. Don't you love me?" 

"You know I do," Matt sighed heavily. 

"Then say it." Alex grabbed Matt's hand across the table. 

"I say it all the time." 

"No, you don't. You say 'ditto.' That's not the same," Alex argued. "Matt, I tell you I love you all the time. Just say it back once, that's all I'm asking for." 

"Okay, I may not say it, but you know I love you. I say it by makin’ you breakfast and kissin’ you goodnight and takin’ care of you when you get sick," Matt replied. 

"I see it in your eyes. I see it in your heart; I know you love me, Matt. Just say it." Alex took a sip of his fifth glass of wine. "I'd love to hear it everyday, but even just this one time would be nice." 

"C'mon, Al, let's just go home. You're actin’ crazy." Matt stood up from his seat, and Alex followed him to the front counter to pay their bill. They left the restaurant together, Matt wrapping his arm tight around Alex's waist. They walked two blocks down to the subway station, and an ominous cold chill ran through Matt. 

"Did you feel that?" Matt whispered.

"Feel what?" Alex furrowed his eyebrows in concern. A man in a gray zip-up hoodie staggered towards the two. Alex's eyes shot wide. "Matt," Alex breathed. Matt moved his hand into Alex's grip as the man in the gray hoodie came closer. 

"Hey, you! Give me your wallet!" The man in the hoodie pulled out a gun, and Alex screamed. "I said, give me your wallet!" The man raised his voice, and Alex stumbled backwards in fear. 

"Matt, just give him your wallet!" Alex shrieked. Panic clung to Alex’s heart as though it would die without him. 

"Listen, mate, you can take my money, but I need my wallet." Matt tried to reason with the gunman. 

"Matt, oh my God!" Alex sobbed as the gunman cocked his gun. 

"Your wallet!" The gunman shouted, and Alex begged Matt to give into the man. 

"Matt, for God's sake!" Alex screamed desperately. "It's just a wallet!" 

"I need the wallet-" Matt's sentence was interrupted by a single shot fired into the center of his chest. The gunman took off, sprinting away into the shadows, and Alex knelt down next to Matt’s head. 

 

"Matt!" Alex bellowed in anguish, drawing out each letter of his name, pain lacing each syllable. "Matt, stay with me! Someone call the hospital!" Alex was pushed aside by strangers crowding around Matt's unconscious body. "Matt, oh, God." Alex shook with his sobs. "Please be okay." 

"Alex, I'm right here." Matt tried to reach out and comfort Alex, but his hand passed through his shoulder. "What happened?" Matt looked down at his hands, realizing he could see straight through them. 

"Shot, eh?" A man in a wheelchair materialized beside Matt. He only looked to be about thirty years old, but he spoke with the experience of a much older man. Perhaps one that had lived several lifetimes. 

"Who are you?" Matt's eyes shot wide. "Where am I?" 

"Well, it's not heaven, and it's not hell. It's kind of an in-between,” The man in the wheelchair explained. "My name's Zach, not like it matters much anymore though. You're about to be just like me, kid...dead." 

"This can't be happening to me,” Matt breathed. "No, I'm not ready to die!" 

"Who's ready?" Zach shrugged indifferently. 

"Alex!" Matt yelled. He tried to grab Alex again, but his hand passed through him. Alex cried, watching as paramedics attempted to revive the Matt whose body lay lifelessly on the ground. "Alex, no, don't cry. I'm right here." Matt felt tears stain his cheeks. "I'm not dead." 

"You look dead to me," Zach laughed. "It's time to let go of all that stuff, kid. You gotta start letting the little things slide; you can walk through walls now, scream as loud as you want and no one will hear you. Isn't that amazing?" 

"No, I just want to be with Alex. I have to tell him I love him." Matt wiped tears out of his eyes. 

"It's a whole new ball of wax, being dead, and you'll learn to love it. Well, doesn't really matter whether or not you like it. Being dead is sort of a...permanent condition," Zach cackled. 

"Alex, I'm right here. You have to hear me. You have to know I'm here." Matt shouted until his throat felt raw. "Alex! Alex, I love you! Please! Please, I'm right here!" 

"C'mon, kid, this is getting sad." Zach sighed, placing his hand on Alex's forearm. "It's time to go. You have a lot to learn and only an eternity to learn it." 

"No, I have to stay here with Alex," Matt replied, aching with the loss of Alex. "I love him. I can't just leave him here." 

"He's on his own now." Zach showed his first hint of an emotion other than mirth and sarcasm. "He's gonna have to learn to live without you, and you're gonna have to learn to exist without him. It's gonna hurt, and it sucks. But that's what happens when you die." 

"No, not like this." Matt cried. "Alex is all alone out there." 

"I'm sorry." Zach ushered Matt away from the subway station. 

Alex shivered against the cold as he stepped into the dry cleaner's. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and burned the back of his throat. He gave the man behind the counter his ticket, and the man gave him Matt's shirts. 

"How's the boyfriend, Mr. Turner?" The man who owned the dry cleaner's, Mr. Hurley, questioned pleasantly. He was a portly man with a round face, a kind heart, and greying hair. His wife had been taken from him two summers ago. 

"...He's dead." Alex muttered. Another wave of emotion dragged Alex under, and suddenly he was crying on Mr. Hurley's shoulder. 

"Oh, Al, I'm so sorry. Matt was always such a sweetheart. He knew just what to say, and you two were so in love. You reminded me of my first winter with Silvia." Mr. Hurley pat Alex on the back comfortingly. Alex nodded, a helpless mess of tears. When he returned to his apartment alone, he wrote letters to Matt that Alex knew he would never read. 

"I miss you so much, Matt." Alex's stomach clenched. "It hurts. It hurts a lot. I know it's stupid, but I keep thinking that I'm gonna wake up, and you'll be laying next to me again. Every knock on the door, every ring of the phone, I think it's you. I know it's all in my head, but I just can't accept it yet. You can't be gone, Matt." Tears streamed down his cheeks as Alex continued to scratch away on the paper. He considered painting, but his most recent work in progress reminded him too much of Matt. Everything reminded him too much of Matt. Alex didn't know where else to turn, and he knew he would give anything just to believe that Matt was still out there somewhere looking over him. 

Matt glanced around the subway car at all of the people who seemed completely oblivious to his existence. It was purely amazing to him, how he still felt real, but he couldn't be real. His existence was all in his mind now, and he had never realized before the sheer power of his own imagination. A furious man with blond hair began charging towards Matt as he stood observing. 

"You like trains, arsehole?" The man shouted in Matt's face. He grabbed Matt by the lapels and hurled him across the train. Matt slid across the ground into the next subway compartment. "Stay off of my train, you hear me!"

Matt quickly leapt off the train and hurried to what used to be his apartment. He easily slipped through the doors and was able to follow Miles upstairs to the apartment where Alex let him in. 

"Hey, Miles, come on in." Alex muttered. He had his arms folded across his chest, and Matt couldn't remember a time Alex had looked so scared and fragile. 

"Alex." Matt breathed, reaching for Alex, but knowing he was unreachable. 

"Al, you can't stay cooped up in this apartment all day." Miles sighed, shaking his head. 

"I went to pick up Matt's shirts from the dry cleaner's this morning." Alex mumbled, shrugging indifferently. "What's the point of going outside, Mi? I just miss Matt, no matter where I go." 

"I know you do." Miles smiled gently. He reached out, able to cup Alex's cheek comfortingly. "C'mon, let's sort through some of Matt's old stuff. It might help you to get rid of some the junk." 

"Oh, Mi, I used to complain about all the crap Matt dragged in, all the posters from garage sales of bands he didn't even listen to anymore. Now, I would give anything for Matt to bring a ratty chair in from Goodwill or a stereo he promised to fix." Alex wiped tears from his eyes. "God, I know how stupid I sound! I'm crazy, right?" 

"No, Al, you're not crazy." Miles placed his hands on Alex's forearms. "You've been so brave. I know this hasn't been easy for you, and trust me, it hasn't been a picnic for me either. But we have to be strong; it's time to start moving on." 

"I just can't." Alex shook his head. 

"Yes, you can." Miles replied easily. "Let's start with some of these boxes you haven't even unpacked yet." Miles crossed the room and grabbed a large square box off the top of a pile. He placed the box between Alex and himself at the kitchen table. They sorted through Matt's possessions, Alex making the final decisions on items to keep and items to throw away. 

"No, wait, don't throw those out." Alex grabbed old ticket stubs out of Miles' hand. 

"Really, Al, you hated that concert?" Matt smirked from the place he was perched in the windowsill. 

"Ticket stubs?" Miles raised his eyebrows inquisitively. 

"I can't stand to throw anything of Matt's away." Alex huffed. "This was a stupid idea." 

"Let's just go for a walk then. It's like summer outside." Miles stood from the kitchen table and extended his hand for Alex to take. Alex shook his head. 

"I can't, Mi." Alex refused. 

 

He and Miles bickered back and forth for a minute before Miles finally punctuated the argument with a shout, "You aren't the one who died, Al!"

 

Alex slapped Miles hard across the face, and he was immediately overcome with guilt. 

"Miles, I'm so sorry." Alex clapped a hand over his mouth, his other hand coming up to brush over the cheek he had just slapped. 

"Don't worry about it. I deserved it." Miles shrugged. "Please, come take a walk with me." Alex nodded, and the pair left the apartment. Matt rushed for the door, but he noticed someone turning the lock just a minute after Miles and Alex had left. He thought Alex must have accidentally left something behind, but the door swung open to reveal the man who had shot him. 

"You?" Matt's eyes shot wide. "Hey, get the hell out!" He tried to throw a punch a the man, but his fist went through the man's skull. The man routed through some of Matt's possessions, lazily stomping through the apartment. He stopped for a second to admire Alex's painting when he and Matt heard the door opening again. This time Alex stepped into the apartment, and the man who had murdered him went to hide in Alex's closet. 

"Alex, get out of here." Matt warned. "It's not safe! The man who killed me is back! He's hiding in the bedroom, please, Alex, listen to me!" Alex disappeared into the bedroom, and Matt hurried after him. 

While Alex was busy stripping out of his clothes for his shower, the gunman slipped out of the apartment. Matt followed him all the way to Spanish Harlem where the gunman had a crappy apartment at Prospect Place. Matt had to find a way to warn Alex that he wasn't safe staying at their apartment. 

Matt walked down the street, hands in his pockets and dodging out of the way of oncoming people. He stumbled upon a psychic's practice. The sign outside read 'Nicholas O'Malley Psychic Reader and Adviser.' Matt had never believed in psychics, and he knew Alex didn't either. But this might very well be his only hope. He had to try something; he would never forgive himself if he allowed Alex to get hurt. Alex was still his everything, even in death.

 

Matt stepped through the door into the psychic’s shop. The store was small with low lighting and red-black wallpaper to give off the quality of being mystic and spiritual. Incense burned in the center of the waiting lobby, causing the thick scent of smoke to waft throughout the included area. A curtain of beads separated those who were waiting from the psychic himself. Matt stepped through the curtain and laid his eyes on Nicholas O’Malley himself. 

 

“Concentrate, you have to think only of your husband,” Nick directed the weeping woman who sat across from him. He held her hands, urging her to open her mind to the spirit world. 

 

“What a load of shit,” Matt scoffed. 

 

“Excuse me?” Nick snapped, his eyes flying open and glancing around the room for the person who had spoken. “Who's there?” 

 

“You can hear me?” Matt’s eyes shot wide. “Say my name if you can hear me. Matt Helders, say it, say Matt Helders.” 

 

“What's going on? Are you talking to my husband?” The woman across from Nick questioned, frustration tinging her tone. Nick ignored the woman in lue of standing up and searching the room for the unknown voice. 

 

“You hear me, don't you? You hear me. Say my name, Matt Helders. Matt Helders,” Matt raised his voice, competing against the noise in Nick’s head. 

 

“Say something!” The woman, who was still seated, snapped irritably. 

 

“Matt Helders,” Nick breathed. 

 

“Who-” 

 

“Get out! Everyone out!” Nick interjected. He shoved the furious, grieving woman out into the waiting lobby. “Matt? Are you there? Are you a ghost?” 

 

“Yes,” Matt answered. “You have to help me, please. My boyfriend is in danger, and I have to warn him. There's this guy, Willy Lopez-” 

 

“I'm sorry I think you have me confused with someone who gives a damn,” Nick sneered. “I’m not helping you, so why don't you do us both a favor and get lost?” 

 

“Then I’ll just have to annoy you into helpin’ me,” Matt grinned. “I don't eat or sleep, either, so if you think you can out last me, be my guest.” Nick rolled his eyes in an obvious display of his skepticism. “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer. You take one down…” 

 

Nick finally gave into Matt after not getting a wink of sleep, Matt having kept him up all night singing ‘Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ and ‘I’m Henry the Eighth I Am.’ Nick followed Matt’s directions to Alex’s apartment and rang the doorbell. 

 

The man standing on Alex's doorstep was a short brunet wearing eccentric clothing. His hair was done up in messy curls that resembled a bed head, and a colorful shawl framed his broad shoulders. Alex eyed him warily. 

"Who are you?" Alex asked. He was suddenly self conscious about his appearance; he knew he must have looked like a complete wreck. 

"I'm Nicholas O'Malley. I'm a psychic, and your boyfriend is contacting me from the dead." The man answered. 

"This isn't funny." Alex huffed. "Look, whoever you are, I guess you got me, but just so y'know, this is a really, really shitty prank."

"I'm serious, Alex." Nick replied. He grabbed Alex's hands. "Please, you have to believe me. Matt is right here, and he just wants you to know that he loves you." 

"No, that's not Matt." Alex shook his head. "I really appreciate you wasting my time though." Alex pulled away from Nick, and he slammed the door in his face. 

"Wait, Alex!" Nick yelled at the door. "See, Matt, I told you this would never work. Now, I did all I said I was gonna do, and I'm outta here." 

"Nick, you can't leave." Matt pleaded. "I need you. Alex has to know he's in danger. He can't stay in that apartment."

"Alex, you're in danger!" Nick pounded at the door again. 

"Leave me alone or I'm calling the police!" Alex retorted. 

"I gotta get outta here, Matt. The police and I don't exactly get along." Nick turned away from the door. He started down the hallway, and Matt tried to grab for his wrist. 

"Nick, don't leave! Please, I need your help!" Matt insisted. "Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer. You take one down-" 

"Fine, I'll help, just stop singing!" Nick clapped his hands over his ears as if that could protect him from Matt's voice inside his head. "Alex, open this door!" Nick demanded, returning to Alex's doorstep. 

"Tell him about the green underwear that he wrote his name in. And the sweater in his closet that he knitted that's four sizes too big." Matt smiled fondly at the memories.

"Matt wants me to tell you about the green underwear you wrote your name in and the sweater you knitted that's in the back of your closet, four sizes too big." Nick said hopefully. The door opened just a crack as Alex’s misgivings toward Nick began to ebb. 

"How do I know it's really him?" Alex asked timidly. "I've never had anything like this happen to me before, nothing interesting ever happens to me." 

"I'm for real, I promise." Nick reached out to touch Alex's hand, but the smaller man pulled away. 

"Tell me something else only Matt would know." Alex emerged from behind the door with his arms folded across his chest. He was furious with himself that he was even still allowing the conversation to continue. Psychics couldn't really contact the dead; Matt was gone, and Alex had to start forcing himself to accept that. 

"Tell Alex about the picture I took of him in Reno. We were all alone on that bus; it's something no one else would know. And the starfish in Montego Bay." Matt answered readily. 

"What about the picture you two took together on the bus into Reno? You were all alone, no one else could have known about that picture. Or the starfish in Montego Bay?" Nick replied. 

"I don't know." Alex shook with uncertainty. "I just...it's all so difficult to believe, and I just miss Matt so much. Am I being crazy?" 

"No." Matt smiled. He stepped towards Alex and placed a hand over his. "Tell Alex I'm holding his hand." 

"He says he's holding your hand." Nick translated. "Please believe me. Matt knows the man who killed him. His name is Willy Lopez, and he lives at 303 Prospect Place Apartment 4D. Matt thinks he was set up, murdered."

"Tell Alex not to cry; tell him everything's gonna be okay, even if it's not." Matt smiled fondly at his boyfriend. "Tell him he isn't alone, that I'm scared too. I don't understand any of this either, but I know I can help." 

"Matt says that he loves you, and you shouldn't cry because you aren't alone. He's scared too." Nick smiled at Alex. "You have to go to the police and tell them that Lopez's the murderer." 

"Yeah, okay, I will." Alex nodded shakily. 

"Here's my card if you need anything." Nick handed Alex a business card. "Good luck, Al." Alex shut the door and leaned against the wood. He clutched Nick's business card in his hands; his only lifeline to Matt was right in front of him. Only, he couldn't trust some fortune teller with a five dollar storefront. A small part of Alex whispered to believe, but he knew he was being an idiot. Ghosts didn't exist, and if they did, why would Alex be so special that his boyfriend could communicate to him from beyond the dead? Nothing added up here, but Alex wanted so desperately to believe. 

Alex forced himself to a paint for a few hours, but the brush moving on canvas didn't calm him down as it usually did. He couldn't stop thinking about that psychic, the idea that Matt was still out there. It couldn't be true, but who else would have known about Reno and Montego Bay? Miles, maybe, but that was cruel, even for him. The doorbell rang, and Alex set down his paintbrush. He wiped his hands on his smock and crossed the room to answer the door. 

"Oh, hey, Mi." Alex greeted, trying to keep his tone pleasant. "Come on in." Miles stepped through the door and into what was now Alex's apartment. 

"Painting?" Miles glanced at the canvas in the center of the room and smiled. "You always were so talented." 

"Thanks." Alex blushed. "Is there any particular reason you're here?" 

"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay." Miles replied. "I want you to know I'm here for you. Let's grab a cup of coffee, yeah?" 

"Sure, okay." Alex removed his smock and hung it up next to his drying painting. He left the apartment with Miles walking behind him. They walked a few blocks to the nearest coffee shop, and when Miles noticed Alex beginning to shiver, he offered the smaller man his jacket. Alex accepted the jacket graciously. Miles paid for their coffees, and they sat down at a small table in the back corner of the café. The café was dimly lit and decorated with elegant wood furnishings. Alex sipped his high priced coffee, and Miles beamed at him. 

"A psychic came by the apartment today. He told me Matt knows the person who killed him." Alex said dryly. He didn't want to seem too engulfed in the story for the fear of Miles declaring him a completely moron. 

"What are you talking about? Alex, that's impossible!" Miles snorted. "There's no way a psychic showed up at your door-" 

"He knew things no one else could have known about!" Alex interjected. "And how would he have found my apartment? I'd never met him before, and he told me things only Matt would know...like that photo that Matt took on the bus in Reno. No one else was on that bus, Mi." 

"You're acting crazy. You have to let go." Miles sighed. 

"I can't let go. I love Matt, and I can't stand the thought that he isn't around anymore. The psychic gave me a complete ID of the murderer; I'm taking this to the police." Alex insisted heatedly. He had been holding back for too long, trying to pretend his feelings weren't there when he'd known the truth all along. 

"Good, Alex, good." Matt breathed. 

"This is deranged, Al, it's sick." Miles shook his head disapprovingly. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stop this."

"It's true, Mi." Matt said, knowing that Miles couldn't hear him, but he had to keep trying on the off chance that maybe one of his messages would break through. "Just listen to him. I know it's crazy." 

"Look, Alex, if it'll make you feel better, I'll go check this guy out." Miles conceded. 

"Really, Mi, you'd do that for me?" Alex's eyes widened. "Thank you, but I am going to the police." 

"I wouldn't do that yet." Miles sighed. "I'll call you in a couple days to let you know what I've found. Hold out until then, okay?" Alex nodded, but he was making no promises. If Matt's killer was out there, Alex had to bring him to justice. 

Miles knocked on the door to Lopez's apartment, shifting from foot to foot as a streak of nervousness shot up and down his spine. Matt was dead; it was impossible, and it was all Lopez's fault. 

"Careful, Mi, this guy is dangerous." Matt warned, his voice a low whisper. He watched as the door to the apartment opened, and Lopez emerged, still in that filthy grey hoodie from the night when he'd shot Matt. 

"Miles, what're you doing here?" Lopez greeted with an air of familiarity that confused Matt. 

"Some psychic knows all about you! Who have you been talking to?" Miles demanded. 

"Talking? That's loco, hombre." 

"Miles." Matt gasped. He shut his eyes, refusing to believe the scene that played out before him. 

"You were just supposed to steal his wallet. I never asked you to kill the guy." Miles raked his fingers through his hair, becoming more distraught. 

"Hey, man, I did you a favor." Lopez scoffed. 

"This isn't a joke, man!" Miles growled. "I've got ten million dollars locked up in those damn computers! If I don't get that money transferred, I'm dead, we're both dead! These are big drug dealers, Willy. I mean, do you think this is some kind of joke? You killed a man." 

"I had a life, and you took that from me! You were my best friend!" Matt tried to throw a punch at Miles, but his hand passed through Miles. "I had a good job! I had Alex!" Matt felt his throat going numb. Miles had taken everything from him. "You took all I had! You've stolen my dreams!" 

"You're such an asshole, Willy!" Miles' hands tightened into fists by his sides. Miles got out of Lopez's apartment complex, and he took a cab to his office building. Once Miles was inside and hacked into Matt's computer, he got on the phone to his boss. 

"Hey, Tony, this is Miles. I've got the codes, just tell me what to do." Miles greeted as soon as he heard the man pick up. "Okay, transfer all the money under a single account name...Ralph Miller, account number 92631043, is that right? Transfer the money Friday at 4:30 to First Island National Bank, okay. Yeah, this Friday! I got it!" 

Matt watched on in horror as someone that he thought was his best friend stole from him. That was his money, that was his life Miles stole. 

"You feel good, you bastard?" Matt shouted. "Taking everything from me? Were you only friends with me for the fucking money, Miles? I would have loaned you the money! You know I would have; you were my best friend, goddamn it!" Matt slammed his fist on the top of his desk, but his hand passed straight through. "Fuck you, Miles! If I ever find out how to kill you, I'm going to! This isn't over, Kane!" 

Alex stood in the center of the police station sniffling and wringing his hands together as he told the policeman everything that Nick had told him. 

"There's no file on Willy Lopez." The policeman, Officer Hanson, announced. 

"Bullshit!" Matt huffed. 

"This Nicholas O'Malley goes way back, though, frauds, fake ID's, the list goes on and on." Officer Hanson added. 

"What's that got to do with anything?" Matt demanded. He watched as the hope faded from Alex's eyes, and all he wanted was to grab him and tell him the truth. He wanted to make Alex feel good again. "Alex, no, you can't believe this guy." Matt pleaded. He tried to grab Alex's shoulders, but he stumbled through the smaller man. "Alex, please. You know I'm here. I know you feel something." 

"I was so sure." Alex whispered to himself miserably. "I'm such an idiot. I guess I just...wanted to believe." He left the police station and took the subway back to his apartment. He hated the feeling of emptiness that consumed him as he stepped through the door of his apartment. Matt used to light up the place with music and his tacky old posters of bands that he'd bought at garage sales. Alex smiled to himself at the memory, tears glazing over his eyes. 

Miles showed up at Alex's doorstep early the next morning with a cup of coffee for the shorter man. He knew Alex would be awake despite the fact that the sun had only just begun to rise. He knocked at the door again, and Alex answered in his smock, hair bed-messy and eyes red-rimmed. 

"I brought you a cup of coffee." Miles smiled, offering Alex the styrofoam cup. 

"Thanks, Mi." Alex mumbled sleepily. "Come on in." He hung his smock up next to his canvas and went into the kitchen to add sugar to his coffee. "Well, Mi, you were right. I went to the police, and there wasn't any file on Willy Lopez." Alex sighed. He recapped his coffee and sat down next to Miles on the couch. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Al." Miles sighed. "I know how much that meant to you." 

"It's fine. I was stupid for believing in that crap." Alex shook his head. He sipped his coffee, glancing out of the window in his apartment to the city that was just beginning to wake up. Miles removed the lid from his coffee and spilled the contents over his shirt. 

"Oh, shit!" Miles cursed, trying to appear as though the spill was on accident. 

"Oh, God, Miles, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Alex leapt off the couch and went to Matt's shirts from the dry cleaner's that he had picked up. The shirts were still hanging from the refrigerator door where Alex had left them. "Here, I can loan you a shirt." 

"Thanks, Al, you're a lifesaver." Miles beamed as Alex handed him a shirt. He removed his dirty shirt, and Alex took it from him. 

"It's no trouble." Alex offered a smile weaker than his coffee. "I can wash this for you." He held up the shirt that he clutched tightly in his hands. Alex went to the laundry room and applied stain remover to Miles' shirt. He returned to the living room and took back his position on the couch. 

"How have you been, Alex?" Miles asked, sliding closer to Alex on the couch. 

"Fine." Alex shrugged. "How is anyone after their best friend and the love of their life gets shot?" 

"I know, Al, it's hard for me too." Miles sighed. "Matt was a good friend." 

"I appreciate you being here for me."

"Well, I don't mind it. You're good company." Miles wrapped his arm around Alex's shoulders. 

"You bastard, get away from him!" Matt shouted. He tried to get between Alex and Miles, but he was physically incapable of doing so. "Damnit, Al, just run. You know Miles is bad; you used to tell me you got a feeling from him!" 

"I love your painting." Miles complemented airily. 

"Oh, well, thanks." Alex blushed sheepishly. He had never thought too much of his own talents. 

"No, Al, get away from him!" Matt screamed helplessly. There was nothing he could do; he felt trapped. "Miles killed me! It was him, Alex, please!" 

"It must be hard coming home to an empty apartment every night." Miles sidled ever closer to Alex, but Alex remained blissfully ignorant. Matt begged and pleaded him to run, but Alex couldn't hear him. Miles couldn't hear the curses that rolled off of Matt's tongue like daggers. 

"Yeah, it is." Alex nodded distantly. Miles wrapped his hand around the back of Alex's neck and pulled him closer until their lips connected. 

"You killed me twice!" Matt shouted. 

"Miles, what're you doing?" Alex leapt off the couch. He folded his arms across his chest, suddenly wishing for more clothes. 

"Well, I just thought you could use someone to help you ease the pain of losing Matt." Miles replied suggestively. 

"I think you should go," Alex mumbled. 

"Oh, c'mon, Al, you can't say-" 

"Goodbye, Miles!" Alex interjected. He went to the kitchen, but Miles followed him instantly. 

"You know you've always been attracted to me." Miles pressed. "You just never did anything about it because you were in love with Matt. Well, Matt's dead." 

"Didn't I ask you to leave?" Alex turned to face Miles and found he was standing uncomfortably close to him. "If you don't leave, I'm calling the police." 

"Oh, I'm terrified, shaking-" 

"Get out, you fucking wanker!” Alex spat. He felt like he was about to start crying again. Miles turned away from Alex and left the apartment. 

Matt ventured onto the subway, and the furious ghost returned, running towards Matt. His skin was so sickly it appeared to have a blue-yellow glow. On his way towards Matt, he knocked bags and briefcases out of the hands of unsuspecting passengers. 

"How do you do that?" Matt demanded. 

"Get off of my train!" The ghost bellowed. He threw Matt across the subway. He stood up, dusting off his front and sprinting back towards the ghost. 

"Show me how you move things!" Matt insisted. "Please!" 

"Fuck off!" The ghost grabbed Matt by the lapel and punched him in the face. He hit him again and again, but Matt refused to turn away. He had to get his revenge on Miles, and he was never going to do that if he kept passing through everything he tried to touch. 

"Please, help me! My best friend had me murdered!" Matt pleaded. "I was shot." 

"And I was pushed off the train platform! Why the hell should I help you?" The ghost screamed as he hit Matt again. The blows did nothing to damage Matt, however. 

"Please, help me," Matt repeated. He didn't know how he was supposed to convince this deranged man to help him, but he knew he needed the help. He needed to protect Alex; sometimes that felt like the only thing that mattered to him anymore. 

"Why should I?" The ghost demanded. He grabbed Matt and yanked him off the train, leading him into an alcove of the platform. 

"I need to avenge my death and protect the love of my life," Matt said brazenly. "What's your name?" 

"Jamie Cook," The ghost replied. "And I'll help you. You see that penny? I want you to nudge it forward with your finger." 

"I don't know how; that's why I need your help." Matt sighed, exhausted. 

"You have to focus," Jamie clarified. "You're not just moving a penny. You're putting all of your emotions into this one action." Matt tried, but his finger passed through the penny without moving it. He groaned before trying again, and again. "Are you even trying?" Jamie yelled. "You can't just be frustrated. You said you want revenge, you want the love of your life back, well, focus!" He slapped Matt across the face. 

"What's it matter?" Matt slammed his palm against the ground. "I'm never gonna get Alex back! I'm dead!" 

"You're a figment of your own imagination. You're gone, dust, you don't exist anymore; you have to reach inside yourself and cross through to a dimension that does exist." Jamie explained. "You're acting like you still exist! You think you wear those clothes? You think you walk on this earth? You don't!" Matt tried again to move the penny to no avail. He tried again, and he felt frustration claw its way up his chest. "Focus, damnit!" Matt tried again, and at last, the penny inched forward. 

"I did it." Matt's eyes shot wide as he leapt off the ground. "I did it!" 

"Good job, kid." Jamie showed the hint of a smile at Matt's retreating form.

Nick was bombarded by voices from beyond the grave. Day in and day out all he heard was the moaning, weeping, and pleading of the dead, the hopeless, all lost souls on an endless path through eternity. He was out of his mind.

"Damnit, Matt, this is all your fault." Nick buried his head in his hands. 

"Who's Matt?" The client seated across from Nick asked. "I don't know any Matt's." She was a timid, frail woman asking about her husband, Gerard. It was her third visit of the week, and Nick was sick of translating. 

"Look, lady, just buy an Ouija board if you're so desperate to speak to a ghost." Nick leapt down the innocent woman's throat, and he would have felt bad had it not been for his skull-shattering headache. 

"I never!" The woman gasped as she hopped up from her seat. She pulled her shawl tighter around herself before storming out. 

"Helders, where are you?" Nick wailed, slamming his palms down on the table in front of him. The crystal ball in the center of the table quivered. 

"I'm right here." Matt answered cheerily. 

"I've already told you that doesn't help me." Nick rolled his eyes. "Please, Matt, you gotta make the voices stop." 

"You can hear them?" Matt's eyes shot wide. "You have the gift." 

"Yeah, yeah, my grandma had it, and my mom had it. But they never said anything about this; this is miserable." Nick groaned. He laid down on the table in front of him. "I can't sleep." 

"Listen, Nick, the reason I'm here is because I need one more favor." 

"Oh, hell, no!" Nick leapt out of his chair. He turned towards where he thought Matt was standing and put his hands on his hips. "It's your fault I have to spend all day-" 

"Nick, the police are on their way." Matt interjected. "Now, please, help me." Nick ran into a nearby supply closet, and Matt followed him, passing effortlessly through the closed door. 

"Why are the police here, Matt?" Nick hissed, fear and anger rearing their ugly heads. Nick felt himself shake. He heard the door of his practice being broken down, and several customers screamed and went running. 

"Miles must have called them. He's the one who hired Lopez to kill me." Matt said. 

"Why does this guy want you dead?" Nick asked. 

"He doesn't. Lopez was just supposed to steal my wallet; Miles didn't want me dead. He wanted to rob me." Matt whispered despite the fact that he didn't have to. No one outside could hear him anyway. "He was my best friend, and I asked for his help with some accounts because there was too much money locked up in the accounts."

"So, what do you need my help with?" Nick asked. 

"You want to help me now?" Matt smirked triumphantly. 

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for a sob story, and yours is pretty awful." 

"Thank you." Matt beamed. "You're gonna need your best suit and a fake ID.”

Nick paraded down the street in a tacky corduroy suit and electric green tie. He stuck out like a hideous garden gnome. It was the first time Matt was actually thankful to be invisible to the mortal eye. 

"Alright, when you get in just...be casual." Matt pleaded, his eyes squeezed shut against what was sure to be impending disaster. 

"Of course, Matty." Nick stepped through the door to the bank and calmly sat down in on a bench. He folded his arms across his chest patiently. 

"You're gonna be talking to Mr. Baldwin. He's a social moron. I've been working with him for five years, and he still calls me Mart. Just tell him you met him at the Sheridan's Christmas party last year, and ask about his kids, Bobby and Nona." Matt paced back and forth in front of Nick. Anxiety crept up on him, and he was unable to stamp it down. He couldn't stop thinking of all the ways this could go wrong, and then what was he going to do? He would be endangering Alex, and he would just have to sit back and watch as Miles stole every penny from him. 

"Sir, Mr. Baldwin will see you now." A stiff woman in a pencil skirt sauntered towards Nick. She lead him into a chair across from a man with bleach blond hair and vibrant eyes. He was thin and wearing a suit worth more than Nick's life. 

"Hello, Mr. Baldwin, it's a pleasure to see you again. We met at the Sheridan's Christmas Party last year. How are Bobby and Nona?" Nick greeted pleasantly. Matt, still quivering with anxiety, was at least thankful that Nick was taking this seriously. 

"They're fine, I suppose. How is your...family?" Mr. Baldwin replied. 

"Oh, they're lovely, thank you for asking." Nick beamed. He crossed his legs, folding his hands on top of his knee in an attempt to appear more businesslike. 

"Tell him you're here to close an account under the name Ralph Miller," Matt whispered with bated breath. 

"I'm here to close an account," Nick announced. 

"Oh, alright, what's the name on the account?" Mr. Baldwin asked. 

"Ralph Miller," Nick replied. 

"Account number?" 

"Account number?" Nick repeated under his breath, waiting impatiently for Matt to reply. 

"92631043," Matt said. 

"92631043," Nick repeated to Mr. Baldwin, who typed at the computer. He found the account, and his eyes shot wide. 

"Mr. Miller, it appears you'll be withdrawing over ten million dollars from us today,." Mr. Baldwin announced. 

"Ten million dollars?" Nick yelled. 

"Shh, shh, yes, Nick, please calm down." Matt pleaded. 

"Ten million dollars," Nick spoke quieter but still in reverent shock. 

"That is correct, isn't it?" Mr. Baldwin asked, his eyebrows now raised in slight suspicion. Nick nodded wordlessly. "And how would you like that withdrawn?" 

"Tens and twenties." Nick grinned. 

"No, no! Say you want a cashier's check!" Matt snapped. 

"I'm kidding, of course, Mr. Baldwin, I'd like a cashier's check," Nick corrected immediately. 

"Sure thing, sir, let me just see your ID." Mr. Baldwin smiled. Nick removed his wallet from his pocket and dumped the contents onto Mr. Baldwin's desk before finally fishing out the correct ID. Mr. Baldwin glanced at it for a second before returning the ID to Nick. Nick scrambled to put everything back in his wallet, and Matt chanted in his ear for him to hurry up. Mr. Baldwin returned with the cashier's check and handed Nick a pen. 

"Just sign this card for me." Mr. Baldwin directed, passing a card over to Nick. Nick placed the pen down and began to sign the card. 

"No, no, Nick, sign Ralph Miller!" Matt hissed. 

"Oh, right, sorry,” Nick muttered. "Um, excuse me, Mr. Baldwin...can I have another card? I accidentally signed with the wrong name." Nick grinned innocently, showing off all of teeth. Mr. Baldwin eyed him suspiciously as he took the card and handed Nick another. 

"Now, sign Ralph Miller," Matt huffed.

"I will, I will." Nick rolled his eyes. "Ralph Miller, that's my name. Ralph Miller, withdrawing ten million dollars. Ralph Miller." Nick finished his signature, and Mr. Baldwin took the card from him. 

"Thank you, Mr. Miller, have a pleasant day." Mr. Baldwin beamed. 

"Thank me?" Nick laughed. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I've got ten million dollars! Can I keep this pen?" 

"Uh...sure?" Mr. Baldwin's eyes narrowed with misgiving. 

"Shh!" Matt glowered at him. "Hurry up, Nick, let's go." Matt hurried for the exit as he caught sight of Alex entering the bank. 

"Hey, hey, Nick!" Alex tried to stop Nick, but Matt urged him forward and out of the bank. 

"I've got ten million dollars! Thank you, Matt, how can I ever repay you?" Nick reveled in elation, thinking of all the glorious things he could do with his newfound fortune. 

"That money isn't for you, Nick,” Matt declared evenly, his voice having a sobering effect on Nick. 

"What'd you mean this money isn't for me?" Nick spun on Matt angrily. He was facing the opposite direction of where Matt was standing, however, and the ghost chuckled in amusement. Matt considered correcting him, but then Nick continued down the sidewalk. 

"I was killed for this money. It's not safe to keep it," Matt explained. "Endorse the check." 

"Endorse the check? Are you stupid?" Nick flailed his arms in exasperation. 

"Just do it!" Matt rolled his eyes. Nick pulled out the cashier's check and the pen from his pocket and begrudgingly endorsed the back of the check. "Now, give the check to those nuns." 

"You want me to do what?" Nick yelled, and several passerby turned to glare at him. 

"Donate the check to the children's shelter. You'll be doing a deed, Nick." 

"But...but, ten million dollars." Nick's bottom lip quivered. He walked up to the two nuns outside of St. Joseph's church with signs asking for donations, and he handed the check to one of them. His fingers were still tightly gripped on the check until Matt coerced him to release it. 

"I'm proud of you, Nick." Matt beamed as the pair retreated from the nuns. 

"I don't care if you're proud of me, Matt," Nick snapped bitterly. "You just made me give up ten million dollars. I hate you! Don't you ever speak to me again!"

"I think you're wonderful." Matt smiled at Nick as the man stomped away. Nick flipped him off, and Matt burst into a fit of laughter. 

Miles entered the account number on his computer, and an alert showed on the screen that the account was empty. Miles' eyes shot wide, entering the account number again. 

"What the hell?" Miles slammed his palm down on his desk. He stood up abruptly and one of his co-workers rushed to his aid. 

"What is it?" The brunette, Paula, questioned worriedly. 

"Nothing, nothing, just, has anyone been messing with the computers?" Miles raised his voice to address the entire office. Some shook their heads while others eyed Miles concernedly. "One of my accounts is closed." 

"I could help you get it back?" Paula suggested kindly. 

"No, it's fine." Miles sat back down and entered the account number again. Again, the alert displayed on the screen, and Miles held back a frustrated scream. "God, damnit!" Miles raked his fingers through his hair.

Miles was still at the office hours later, still frantically trying to search every account the bank had access to. He couldn't find even a trace of the money like it had all just disappeared. But that was impossible; ten million dollars didn't just sprout legs and walk through the door. Miles leafed through stacks of paper, dug through old files, but everything he tried was hopeless. The clock passed eight, and Miles knew he was running low on time. His own clock was ticking with the knowledge that failure to deliver this money meant death. The guys Miles owed didn't offer extensions. 

"Fuck!" Miles yelled, knowing he was alone in the office. Matt laughed behind him, enjoying the show of Miles squirming under the wire. He pushed the chair around Miles' desk, reveling in the saccharine taste of revenge. Miles wheeled around at his desk, noticing the chair move across the room. 

"Who's there?" Miles demanded, standing slowly from his seat. Matt made a stack of papers fall to the floor before going to Miles' computer. 'Murderer,' Matt typed. To Miles, it appeared as though the keyboard, the chair, and the papers were moving of their own accord. Panic had its hold on him. "W-who's doing this? This isn't funny." Miles shuddered as Matt's name appeared on his computer screen again and again, lines and lines of Matt's name. He shut off his computer and fled from his office. 

 

Alex heard a knock at his door, and he stood from the couch to answer it. 

"Hey, Miles, come on in." Alex looked worriedly at Miles. He was sweating, and he felt fear strangling his lungs. 

"Alex, when you said you felt Matt's presence around you, what did it feel like?" Miles demanded; he grabbed hold of Alex's shoulders, his nails digging into worn fabric. 

"What?" Alex's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why does it matter, Mi? None of that stuff is real." 

"What did that psychic tell you? Tell me everything he said." Miles pressed. 

"Mi, you're scaring me." Alex pulled himself free from Miles' grip. 

"Something's gone wrong at the bank." Miles replied vaguely. 

"Oh, don't worry, Al, Miles just needs to borrow about ten million dollars." Matt grinned maliciously. 

"Is this because that psychic was there today?" Alex asked. Matt's face fell. 

"What?"

"Yeah, turns out his name isn't even Nick O'Malley, it's Ralph Miller." Alex noticed Miles pale completely. "Are you alright?" 

"It's nothing. It's nothing, my uh...my stomach just hurts. Do you have any Pepto Bismo?" Miles stammered. He stumbled away from Alex and leaned against the back of the couch. 

"Sure, I might have some upstairs." Alex turned away from Miles and headed upstairs to the master bathroom. 

"You scared, you stupid son of a bitch?" Matt laughed, opening a drawer of silverware. Miles glanced worriedly around the apartment, every nerve standing on end. He held his hands out to the side to steady himself and paced cautiously towards the kitchen. His breathing was heavy, and Matt threw a plastic cup at his feet. Miles jumped, and Matt chuckled malevolently. 

"I swear, Matt, if you don't give me that money"- Miles pulled back his coat to reveal a gun tucked into the waistband of his dress pants. "Alex is as good as gone. You have until eleven o'clock tonight, and don't fucking test me." He shook with fear and desperation, knowing either he would die tonight or be forced to take the life of another person he cared about. 

"You stay away from Alex, you dirty bastard!" Matt growled. Alex returned from upstairs holding a bottle of Pepto Bismo which he offered to Miles. 

"I gotta go back to the office and sort something out." Miles announced. "I can't explain right now, Al." 

"Why not?" Alex demanded. "Miles, you're really scaring me. Please, just stay and tell me what's going on. I heard you talking down here; you said something about Matt." 

"I have to go." Miles offered no other reply as he ran out of the apartment. The door slammed shut behind him. 

"Nick," Matt breathed before taking off after Miles. He took the bus to Nick's crummy apartment in Spanish Harlem; the district looked as though it hadn't seen the light of day in at least twenty years. The walls were cracked, and the floorboards were held together by glue. Matt shuddered passing through the walls, feeling as though the dirt and grime of the complex was sticking to him. 

"Nick, you have to get out of here!" Matt ordered, entering Nick's living room. Matt's voiced materialized from nowhere, and Nick was startled out of his hazy, relaxed trance. 

"God damnit, Matt, I thought I was through with you," Nick groaned. "I don't know how much more help you want from me." 

"No, you don't understand. Miles is on his way here; I think he might try to kill you. You aren't safe here." Matt insisted. A red car pulled up outside of Nick's apartment complex, and Miles clambered out of the driver's seat. Lopez emerged from the passenger's seat, and the pair marched into the complex. Matt's eyes shot wide, glaring desperately at Nick before he realized a second too late that Nick couldn't see him. "Nick, run!" Matt shouted. Nick took off upstairs to his neighbor's apartment and hid in the kitchen with the elderly man. 

Miles kicked down Nick's door, and Lopez searched the apartment, finding it completely empty. 

"He must have made a run for it." Lopez sighed. 

"He's not getting away with our money. Let's search this place; you take the upstairs." Miles kicked down the door of the apartment across the hall from Nick's, not caring about anything anymore except his money. He was blinded by misinterpreted fear. Lopez made it to the apartment next to the one where Nick was hiding, and Matt followed him into the bathroom. He knocked over the shower curtain, and Lopez spun around towards the commotion. Matt grinned, scattering toiletries everywhere and throwing some towards Lopez. 

"Knock it off!" Lopez screamed, firing his gun desperately. Matt laughed, turning on the faucet and blasting the water until it was hot. The mirror fogged, and Matt traced the word 'Boo' in the fog. Lopez went running from the apartment, hurrying down the stairs of the complex. He ran into Miles, but he kept running. Matt effortlessly floated to the bottom floor and waited for Lopez to hurry outside. Matt tapped Lopez on the shoulder as soon as the man braked to catch his breath. Lopez went running, and he didn't look back until he was in the middle of the road. 

"Look out!" Matt screamed, but he was too late. Lopez couldn't have heard him even if he weren't. An eighteen wheeled truck collided with Lopez's chest, crushing his lungs on impact. Matt stood and watched in horror as Lopez's soul was dragged off to hell, Lopez kicking and screaming. 

Miles emerged from the apartment complex, furious and aware of how little time was left on the clock. He got back into the red car and sped towards Alex's apartment. Matt went back upstairs to comfort Nick and tell him he had to warn Alex. 

"Alex, open the door!" Nick stood at the threshold, his heart pounding in his chest louder than any shotgun. 

"Go away!" Alex snapped. "I know you're a fraud, just stop lying to me! I can't take it anymore! I can't take it!" 

"Alex, please, you have to believe me. Don't you get it?" Nick pleaded. "Miles had Matt murdered." 

"I thought it was that Willy Lopez guy? All out of people to blame?" Alex sneered. "Just go away!" Matt traveled through the wall to the other side of the door where Alex was sobbing. "Why are you doing this to me?" Alex demanded, hitting his palm against the door as more tears fell from his cheeks. 

"Tell him he's wearing the green shirt I spilled the margarita on." Matt reached out for Alex but didn't try to touch him. 

"Matt says you're wearing the green shirt that he spilled the margarita on. Don't you get it? I'm not a fake, not about this." Nick said heatedly. Alex opened the door, and Nick stepped inside the apartment. They stepped into the living room, and Alex sat down. 

"So Miles is really- but Miles was his best friend." Alex rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "And Matt's really here? Right now?" 

"Tell him I'm sitting right next to him." Matt directed as he sat down. 

"Matt says he's sitting right next to you." Nick smiled. He stared out the window, waiting for a sign of Miles' car. 

"Tell him all I want to do is touch him once more." Matt breathed. 

"Matt says he wishes he were alive so he could touch you again." Nick stepped away from the window and sat down in the old recliner chair Matt refused to throw away. "You can use me." 

"Use you?" Matt furrowed his eyebrows inquisitively. 

"Use my body." Nick clarified. "Just hurry up before I change my mind." Matt's jaw dropped momentarily before he stepped into Nick's body. 

"Alex?" Nick breathed. 

"Matt?" Alex asked. He stood up from the couch, and Nick rose from the recliner. He grabbed Alex's hands, running his palms over them. "It's really you." 

"It's really me." Nick smiled, running his hand up Alex's chest to cup his cheek. His thumb skimmed over Alex's bottom lip, and Alex's eyelids fluttered shut. 

"Kiss me." Alex whispered. "Please." Nick cupped the back of Alex's neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. 

A loud knock sounded at the door, and Matt collapsed onto the floor, leaving Nick and Alex standing uncomfortably close. 

"Go hide in the closet." Matt wheezed, struggling to stand. He got to his feet as Miles blew the lock off the apartment door with his gun. 

"Alex!" Miles shouted, cocking his gun. "Alex, where are you?" 

"Leave us alone!" Alex spat, making a run for the basement of the complex. Matt swayed on his feet, jabbing Miles in the ribs and desperately attempting to hold him off. He didn't know how much longer he could fight the man; his body, physical and spiritual, was spent. He shoved Miles across the room and into the large window overlooking the city. He landed blows to Miles' chest and stomach, but they paled in comparison to his usual fighting prowess.

"Holding back?" Miles chuckled tauntingly, noticing Matt's lack of strength. "You always were weak." 

"Fuck," Matt panted breathlessly, "you." He wheeled back to punch Miles in the face, but Miles moved in the last second, causing Matt's fist to collide with the window. Miles made a run for the basement, and Matt sped after him. 

"Alex, you need to stay away from that psychic! He's a con artist, and you know it!" Miles shouted through the basement. 

"Just leave us alone, Miles, why are you doing this to me?" Alex retorted. He hurried up a ladder onto the landing, but Miles caught Nick's foot, pulling him off the ladder. Nick's skull collided with concrete, and fear touched even the deepest corners of his eyes. 

"Let me go." Nick gasped as Miles brought his hand over Nick's throat. 

"Just give me the money, and no one has to get hurt." Miles growled, straddling Nick's hips. He pressed down on Nick's windpipe, slowly drawing life from the brunet. Nick clawed at Miles' hand. 

"It's gone. I gave it away." Nick managed in between desperate gulps of air. 

"Don't lie to me!" Miles bellowed, his voice echoing through the basement. He brought his gun to Nick's forehead. "What did you do with that money?" 

"I told you it's gone!" Nick felt tears roll down his cheeks. "Please, let me go." 

"Get off him, you asshole!" Alex leapt on Miles' shoulders, wrapping his hands around Miles' eyes. Miles stumbled backwards, blindly firing the gun in his hands. He didn't know what he was aiming for anymore. Miles threw Alex off, and they landed against a glass pane that protected a large window; Miles’ gun skittered out of his hand and across the ground. Alex wrestled with Miles for a moment, finding it difficult to withstand the force of Miles' blows. 

 

“Nick, the gun!” Matt yelled. 

 

“Oh, I know you don't think I’m gonna murder someone for you,” Nick hissed under his breath, trying not to call in attention to himself in the midst of the scuffle. 

 

“Please, I can't do it.” Matt begged. “Nick, please!” Nick picked up the gun at his feet and lined the barrel with Miles’ chest. “Pull the trigger.” Nick shut his eyes, taking slow, steadying breaths. He waited until Alex had cleared his line of sight and pulled the trigger. The bullet whirred through the air, and when it entered Miles’ chest, connected him to the gun that had fired the bullet that killed his best friend. Miles fell onto the ground, and Alex ran to comfort Nick. 

"Matt?" Miles' spirit rose from his corpse, and he took in the sight of his best friend.

"Oh, Miles." Matt shook his head. Miles spun around and was met with the sight of his dead body. 

"What happens now?" Miles barely had time to ask before dark shadows rose from the ground and dragged him away. As soon as Miles felt their hands on him, he tried to scream. He screamed out for Matt, for Alex, for anyone he had ever pretended to care about, and all Matt could do was feel sorry for him. Matt ran toward Alex and Nick, who were crouched on the ground each close to tears but trying to keep a stiff upper lip. 

"Are you okay?" Matt asked. 

"Matt?" Alex's eyes shot wide, and he spun his head out of Nick's embrace. "I can hear you." A light opened up above Matt, and it shone down on Matt's head, a halo of divine energy. The light seemed to go on for miles, and it was magnificently bright, like the smile of a newborn baby, untouched and pure. 

"Matt," Alex cried, overcome with joy. He reached out for Matt, but he couldn't touch him properly. An invisible force was holding them apart, the force a thin line between reality and imagination. Matt held out his hand, and Alex placed his close enough that, had Matt still been alive, they would have touched. Matt leaned towards Alex, and their lips hovered less than a millimeter apart. They stayed in their barely-there kiss for a long moment, Matt wishing to touch Alex, Alex wishing for more. Alex felt tears wet his cheeks, and he wiped them away futilely. 

"I love you, Alex, with all my heart. I've always loved you." Matt smiled warmly, and Alex had nearly forgotten that smile, that voice. Matt was still perfect. 

"Ditto," Alex chuckled dryly, tears still flowing freely down his cheeks. 

"I'll never forget you, Nick." Matt waved to Nick, and Nick found himself crying as well. 

"Yeah, yeah, get out of here." Nick grinned. "You're very brave, Matt. I'm proud of you." 

"I think you're wonderful. I couldn't have done this without you."

"I know that for sure." Nick smirked. Matt waved his last goodbye before allowing the light to deliver him into a place where he would spend eternity.


End file.
